


fill my little world right up

by duckgirlie



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckgirlie/pseuds/duckgirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor's born with an empty space in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fill my little world right up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisysusan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/gifts).



> Happy Birthday! (a touch late, but hopefully that's okay) And thank you Jane and C for your help.

Taylor's born with an empty space in his chest.

Or that's what he'll say when he's older. When he's young, he doesn't say much about it, because he can't really explain the feeling of emptiness in a way that makes sense. It's not a _bad_ feeling, not really, just a feeling that's always been there. But when he tries to explain it to people, they look confused or worried or sad, so he just stops talking about it.

He doesn't think it'll last anyway. The thing about spaces is they're there to be filled up.

But the thing about _some_ spaces is there's only one thing that can.

-

The empty space isn’t as noticeable on the ice. It's still there – it's always there – but it's easier to deal with. Maybe it's because when he's playing hockey the rest of his chest is so full that the empty space doesn't register as much, or because hockey is the thing that's going to fill it in eventually, but he feels as close to whole as he ever does.

-

When Taylor's sixteen, he kisses a boy called Steve. Steve is... nice. He doesn't play hockey, but other than that he's exactly the same as every other boy Taylor's thought about kissing, shorter and smiling with dark hair and slightly gap teeth.

Boys who play hockey are too risky to kiss anyway.

The kissing part itself is nice enough, but he can't quite shake the off feeling. He doesn't know why, but when he pulls away the space in his chest feels a little bigger than before.

Steve blushes and looks down at his feet and asks if maybe Taylor wants to go out sometime. And Taylor thinks he should want to say yes, because Steve is nice and cute and friendly and the kissing part itself was fine and isn't that what everyone wants? But even if the space in his chest isn't actually emptier now, Taylor just can't can’t help but feel that this isn't the right thing for him.

At least Steve _gets_ hockey even if he doesn't play it. Taylor doesn't have to make up any excuses why he doesn't think it's a good idea to do it again.

-

Under-18s is kind of magic. Hockey is always great, but there are moments at this tournament when everything seems to slot into place and he feels better than he ever has before. He feels young and strong and so close to perfect and there's a fizzing in his chest that feels like it'll never stop.

They win the gold, and Taylor thinks that even if he never fills in that tiny bit of empty space, if he gets to feel like this then maybe he'll be okay.

-

Except it gets worse.

When he gets back home after Russia, for the first time it feels like there's something _missing_ instead of just not there.

There are moments when he feels like he can't quite breathe, like the space he feels is only going to get bigger and bigger until he'll never feel normal again.

His mom finds him in bed one afternoon. She knows about the empty space, from back when he thought it was just a normal way to feel, but he hasn't told her anything since then because the look in her eyes had been too hard to deal with.

She rests a hand over his heart.

“Is it worse?”

He nods silently.

“When?”

“I don't know.” He whispers. “It got better, for a while. Or maybe I just got used to it, but now it's worse and I don't know what to do, but I can't do this much longer.”

His mom smiles sadly because she doesn't know what to do either.

-

The ice still makes it better, even if it's not as better as it was before. But Taylor remembers how it felt when he had the medal around his neck and thinks that if he keeps pushing harder, if he wins more, maybe he can get back to where he was – where it wasn't quite perfect but it wasn't quite so bad either.

When he lifts the Memorial Cup, it's better. Not quite as much, but close.

Maybe it'll be enough.

-

The feeling that hits him when he gets to WJC camp that summer is almost enough to knock him off his feet. He's so distracted trying to figure out what it is and where it's coming from that the first three people to speak to him get barely any response. It's just lucky that the entire room seems buzzy and excited enough that people don't notice a few stupid answers.

He kind of zones out for a moment until someone waves their hand in front of his face.

“Anyone in there?” Ebs grins.

“Shit, sorry. Did you say something? I was a little...”

“It's fine, don't worry. I was a little distracted last year too. It'll be totally mundane before long.”

t'll never be that mundane, but Taylor can't say that here, so he just shrugs. He remembers Ebs from Under-18s, even if they didn't spend much time together off the ice. They had some good strong shifts together, and that's the most important thing.

-

It's better on the ice. It's always better on the ice, but it's even better this time. The shifts are strong, the passes are crisp, and even if it's only training, the buzzing in his chest is back – so so close to perfect but not quite.

-

Camp isn't long enough and when it's over, it feels like whiplash how fast the feeling disappears and he's left feeling emptier than before.

At least now he knows the space can be filled, even if he doesn't know how. He doesn't know if that's better though, to just be waiting around until the universe decides he's had enough and makes it better. He's so fucking sure now that the answer is hockey, so he has to work harder, keep his head down, make it to Team Canada, make it to the NHL as fast as he can. He can't wait much longer.

-

When the roster for WJC is announced, Ebs texts him to say congratulations and he'll see him soon. His chest almost feels fuller in anticipation, because whatever's wrong with him, playing for Canada seems to be the closest thing he gets to normal.

He texts Ebs congratulations back, because aside from the feeling in his chest, hanging out with Ebs was the best part of camp.

Maybe this time will be the last time. The time he finally figures it out.

-

Hockey will always be the best feeling in the world. But there's something about this hockey, on this team, that's even better then usual. He hits a moment in a game when he feeds Ebs the puck and Ebs slides it past the goalie, and when they all come together to celebrate the goal he gets that feeling of close-to-fullness again, the one that makes him think that maybe he'll be okay even if he never finds a solution.

Except that this time, it doesn't fade right away.

He walks off to the locker room and sits down next to Ebs and starts taking his uniform off, and the whole time he's waiting for the feeling to fade, to leave him with the familiar empty space.

Ebs taps him on the back of the hand and repeats his last question.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Don't they gives us food?"

Ebs rolls his eyes. "If you want to be boring, sure. But if you want to be _cool_..."

Ebs is clearly joking, and Taylor laughs and shoves at him. 

"What, you have something better in mind?"

Ebs shrugs. "I may have an idea or two. I mean, you're on my turf now, I've got all the secrets."

"Well if it's a secret."

"Awesome."

Right before they head out of the locket room, Taylor grabs Ebs' elbow.

"Do you want to see if anyone else wants to come?"

Ebs shook his head and pulled Taylor after him. "We can't _all_ sneak out dude, that's way too obvious."

Ebs shoves him out the door before anyone follows them, and Taylor forgets to keep track of the space in his chest.

-

The night beat the USA to qualify for the semifinals is Newy Year’s Eve, and everyone’s in the mood to celebrate. They all pile together in one of the rooms and drink a few illicit beers, carefully toeing the line between rebellion and responsibility.

Taylor finds himself sitting against the wall, sandwiched between Ebs and some guy he's only met twice and whose name is so generic he can't actually remember it. The guy – Alan? Luke? – is talking about his girlfriend, complaining so much about some tiny thing she did that was apparently terrible. Ebs catches Taylor's eye and grins.

“Man, if she's so terrible, why doesn't he just dump her?” Ebs whispers.

Taylor shrugs. “I don't know. I don't have a girlfriend, but I hear they're worth the hassle.”

Ebs blushes and scratches the back of his head. “I've never had one, so...”

Taylor's glad he's only had half a beer, because if he was drunk there's every chance he might blurt out something stupid like 'you remind me of the first boy I kissed' and that's probably not a good thing to say to a teammate, even one like Ebs.

Instead he shrugs and changes the subject, and listens to Ebs talk about the Roughriders for about twenty minutes. Which is longer than he really wants to, but Ebs is clearly happy to have someone to talk to about them, so Taylor's not that put out. There's something about Ebs' smile when he's enthusiastic that keeps him listening, even if he doesn’t really care that much about what he’s talking about.

When midnight rolls around, the party breaks up, and everyone moves back to their own rooms. Ebs is on the same hallway as Taylor, so they take the elevator together and wander through the quiet hotel.

Ebs says something funny-stupid and Taylor laughs. Ebs looks at him for a moment, tilting his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I think I know someone else who laughs just like you – it’s so familiar.”

Taylor smiles. “I laugh a lot.”

“More familiar than that.”

He shrugs. “Maybe in the future, I find a time machine and travel to the past to rescue you from boring parties when you’re a child.”

Ebs laughs. “Like you could ever pilot a time machine.”

“I could totally pilot a time machine. I already have. _In the future_.”

“I guess that explains it then.”

“Explains what?”

Ebs smiles shyly. “Sometimes when I'm talking to you, I feel like I've known you my whole life.”

There are things that Taylor wants to say back, but he can't.

_When I'm with you I forget there's something wrong with me._

So instead he grins and shrugs and breaks the tension with a joke, and Ebs rolls his eyes and shoves him into his room.

-

The night they lose the gold medal, he begs off whatever commiserations the rest of the team are planning and heads back to his room. It's dark and warm and he kicks off his clothes and just crawls into bed. His phone beeps a few times, but he ignores it. He's pretty sure it's going to be Ebs wondering where he is, but he doesn't think he wants to talk to him right now.

Ebs already has his gold medal.

The space in his chest feels bigger than ever before, and he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong, like he's never going to find what's missing.

There's a knock on the door, and he tries to ignore it. But whoever it is keeps knocking, and eventually he has to drag himself out of bed and into some clothes and answer it.

Ebs pushes past him into the room. Taylor sighed.

“Ebby, I don't really want to–”

Ebs holds up a hand to cut him off. “I just wanted – before tomorrow when everyone else will be there too – and you can totally stop me if you don't, but...”

He cups Taylor's jaw and slowly, carefully, pulls him into a kiss.

The thing is, Taylor's heard stories about how it feels to kiss the right person. He knows that kissing isn't always that amazing, but there's something about the way he feels when Ebs is around that makes him think it might be different.

He's kind of expecting fireworks, but he doesn't get them. It feels like the first time kissing him, but also like the tenth, and the hundredth. It's like killing the final level boss or scoring the game-winning goal, a feeling like everything is slotting into place.

Mostly though, it's a feeling Taylor's been waiting for his whole life. He feels whole.


End file.
